


Bluffs And Bruises

by EffingEden



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/pseuds/EffingEden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal gets in a bit of trouble defending Simon's virtue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bluffs And Bruises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheryden](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sheryden).



> Comment_fic prompt, 'Firefly, Mal and any of the crew, bar fight'

Mal stared down at his cards, letting a pleased smirk twitch his lips up for a split-second before letting it drop and glancing across at his opponent, catching the tobacco chewing woman observing him. He picked up a blue and bronze disk and flipped it into the central pile. “So, you were saying about a job you need to go up double on?”

Mao Feng’s jaw worked a moment longer and she jerked her chin up once. “You know my War Lily ain’t got much in the way of cargo space. Your boat has the speed I need and belly enough to take what mine can’t.” She picked up three smaller red disks from the stacks in front of her and added them to the growing mound between them. “Your cut it thirty percent.”

He snorted and laughed, “Feng, you got weevils in your brain if you think I’m taking the lion’s share of the load for only thirty. Sixty – and it’s a mark of our long and illustrious friendship that I’m taking so little.”

“ _Hoo-tsuh_ – sixty? Mal, you gonna make me whore out my own mother to be able to pay for fuel. Take forty, or I find someone else. I only asked you first because you were in town – jobs are rare and the docks are full.”

Mal weighed the dangers of running double with hot cargo – some _gos se_ liquor that was dressed up like another brand costing the same as a healthy Mule per bottle. It was risky, but the money was more than they’d seen in a year. Even thirty was a difficult offer to turn away. “I know for a fact your mother –”

“Say, boy, I reckon those lips would look mighty fine rapped around my John Thomas. What say we go on in back, see if I’m right…”

The slightly slurred proposition was loud enough to carry right over from the bar. The sudden lull in chatter was obvious, and though the response was only an embarrassed mumble, Mal recognised the culture in the stumbling tone.

Whatever the good doctor what said was very much of the wrong sort, as the drunk snarled, “I ain’t believing that pack of shit, boy. Guay, you just ordered a round, so your boat ain’t leaven yet – if you even got passage on one. Face that pretty, only thing you can be way out here is a whore. Be a good slut now or I’ll teach you good!”

Mal smiled brilliantly at Feng. “ _Dung ee hwar_ ,” he murmured, closing the fan of losing cards in his hand and leaving them in a neat pile.

Leaving the back table he strode with laid-back intent, managing to catch Simon’s reply. “- means that I do, in fact, have to leave. So you see, it’s out of my hands, but thank-you for the offer-”

“You know, I like you better when you don’t talk, whore.” The burly man – a good foot taller than Simon with a long, unkempt beard and sunburnt cheeks - backhanded the young doctor with casual violence. Simon grasped the bar top and clenched his teeth, probably gathering his courage to take action. Mal was half tempted to wait a little longer to see what would come, but there was a small chance Simon would go and do it.

“No gorram way that’s ever worked on a person,” Mal commented loudly to the barkeeper with a chuckle before looking at the back of the man’s head. “You should stick to wooin’ sheep and cattle, friend.”

The man turned, his flaking face colouring deeper as his rage mounted. “ _Gwan nee tzo-jee duh shr_ , you piss drinking rat!”

“Is that right? Well, I think it is my business, seeing as that’s my crewman and I do not want him carrying your clap onto my boat.”

The hillbilly roared wordlessly and swung a fist at Mal. He ducked out of the way and landed a blow of his own on the side of his hairy jaw, wishing hard that he had Zoe or Jayne with him, someone with guts and skill enough to help. Some people cleared out, but most cheered and placed bets. None seemed interested in joining in, and even the bartender looked on with only mild displeasure, moving bottles and half empty beer glasses from the counter top.

Mal thought he was doing good – seeing as each blow of his hit home and only a few of the brute’s caught him square – when he was grabbed roughly by his front and lifted up to his toes. The bastard’s face loomed close, a grin showing a chipped front tooth and bathing him in rancid air before he was headbutted hard. Dazed and reeling, he wasn’t released but shook like the hillbilly was looking to break his neck. Mal kicked and punched but there was no getting away – until the man gave another roar, this time of shock and pain, and dropped the Browncoat.

From the ground Mal rolled onto his back and kicked upwards with all the force he could find, planting both heels in the bearded man’s crotch.

With a wheeze, he toppled sideways, curling into himself and clutching his head. Behind him, stood Simon, hands still raised and a look of surprise on his milk white face. Seeing Mal on the ground, he stepped gingerly over the twitching man and reached down to help the captain to his feet.

“You got him to let go?” Mal said, rubbing his wrenched neck.

“I burst his eardrums,” Simon replied with a slight shrug.

Mal looked down to the man still whimpering, and saw a small trickle of blood leaking from one ear. “Nice,” he said in approval. “Next time, do it sooner. I’m sore all over.” Simon smiled slightly and Mal clapped him on the shoulder, then kicked the hillbilly’s side so he flopped onto his back. “ _Kwai chur hun-rien di fahng,_ ” he commanded, ignoring the mix of whoops and grumbles from the on lookers. “We ain’t got no more time for you.”

Only when he had started to drag himself away did Mal look away from the snivelling bit of gos se and said to Simon, “You better come sit with me before you cause more of a ruckus.”

Mao Feng was still chewing at her tobacco, his cards at a slightly different angle from where he left them. Unperturbed, he picked them up and tossed another disk into the kitty. “I’ll take forty-five.”

“ _Swai_. You’ll take forty and you know it,” Feng said calmly, laying down her cards and calling his bluff.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation  
> Hoo-tsuh – shut up  
> Dung ee hwar – hold on a second  
> Gos se – crap  
> Guay – hell  
> Gwan nee tzi-jee duh shr – mind your own business  
> Kwai chur hun-rien duh di fahng – go far away very fast  
> Swai - cute


End file.
